


Ship to List

by LadyNighteyes



Category: Radiant Historia
Genre: Angst, At Journey's End timeline, Bad Ending, F/M, Mirrored from Tumblr, Offscreen character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 11:35:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16872210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyNighteyes/pseuds/LadyNighteyes
Summary: “This isn’t how it was supposed to go,” Raynie said to her empty shot glass.





	Ship to List

**Author's Note:**

> Me, posting this on Tumblr in 2014: "Eh, I'll probably put it on AO3 once I can think of a title."  
> Me in 2018, trying to back everything up as Tumblr crashes and burns: *desperately searching lyric sites for a band I don't listen to because if anyone was going to have a line I can use as a title for this, it's The Mountain Goats*

“This isn’t how it was supposed to go,” Raynie said to her empty shot glass. Her black eye thudded with pain in time with her heartbeat, though she could feel the fizzle of the regeneration spell slowly easing the bruise away.

“What isn’t?” Stocke said, not looking up from the dishes.

“All of it. Us… and… and here…” She waved a hand vaguely, trying to encompass the whole of the room, the house, the city with one gesture.

He set down the pot he’d been scrubbing and turned, frowning slightly. “What about us? Is there something wrong?”

 _Not with you, never with you_ , she thought, but left it unsaid. There were some sentiments she preferred to save for when she was sober. “Not _us_ us,” she said, trying to make it sound reassuring. “’s just. It’s been almost a year, and…”

“Eleven months and one week,” he said, so softly she almost didn’t hear.

“…And here I am fixing ovens for spare change and getting into bar fights, while you work all day and half the night trying to heal street kids with lung infections.”

“There’s fewer than there used to be,” he said.

“That’s because a lot of them are starving to death now, and you know it.” She sighed. “It’s… not how I thought it’d go, that’s all.”

He looked away, some emotion she couldn’t interpret flickering across his face. “Me neither.”

She sighed again and poured herself another drink. She didn’t gulp this one down all at once, though, taking a slow sip instead as Stocke walked over and put his hand on her shoulder.

She glowered at him. “Don’t you _dare_ sober me up.”

“I won’t.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead, and she felt the warmth of healing magic spread out to soothe her eye, far faster than her own spell would have.

“You’re ridiculous,” she said, experimentally feeling the bruise with her fingers as he straightened up. Nothing- it wasn’t even tender. She might as well not have taken that punch at all.

He half-smiled at her, a little sadly, as he went back to the dishes.

“You were right again,” she said, eventually. “I heard it in the pub. That thing of Hugo’s went off four days ago, like you said.”

He froze, halfway through drying a plate. “Where?”

“Outside Cornet.”

“That _idiot_ ,” he growled. “He’ll even starve his own army at this rate. Anyone we know?”

“I don’t know.” He’d taken Rosch’s death months before much better than she’d expected- certainly better than she’d taken Marco’s. But one of the only times she’d ever seen him cry was when they found out about Aht.

He grimaced. “Yeah, I guess I shouldn’t have asked. We probably won’t know for another week.”

Raynie watched him as he set the plate down and began drying another with, perhaps, a bit too much vehemence. An insistent, niggling thought finally made itself heard through the alcohol.

“You still feel guilty, don’t you?” she said. “You think that if you’d been there you could’ve…” She waved a hand vaguely as she searched for the right words. “…could’ve felt it coming, or somethin’.”

“I feel it when it goes off, not before,” he said. “I wouldn’t have time to get anyone out unless we were already on the edge of its reach.” By now, she was used to the way Stocke always sounded sure of himself, but if it had been anyone else, Raynie would have wondered if that certainty had come from experience.

“What is it, then?” she asked, taking another sip of her drink. “You give up on those old books of yours or somethin’?”

He closed his eyes and let out a breath. “Yes, actually.”

Raynie nearly choked.

“I don’t know why I even bothered,” he said softly. “If closing the mana breach were that simple, someone would have found a solution decades ago.”

Raynie wished she could say she hadn’t thought the same thing.

Suddenly, she saw him tense, his grip on the counter tightening. It took a moment for the familiar warning signs to register, but she made it to his side just as he fell to his knees, and caught him before he could collapse.

His breathing was ragged and shallow, and it was a few agonizing seconds before he shook his head, his eyes refocusing. He gave her a small smile, but she knew it was forced. “Sorry.”

“You should see a doctor,” she said, cutting to the chase of their old argument.

“I did, remember?” he said. “He said he couldn’t find anything wrong.”

“Then ask another one!”

“We can’t afford it. Besides, it’s nothing that serious.” He rubbed his eyes, exhaustion evident on his face.

“Like hell it’s not,” she said. “What if- if one of those kids catches what you’ve got, or-”

A huff of almost-laughter. “I doubt that’s going to happen.” Then he winced, and this time Raynie _felt_ the fit coming. She caught him as he started to double over and waited, letting him catch his breath. It didn’t take as long, this time.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. “It’s all right. I think it’s passed now.”

She’d meant to ask how he was feeling, but something else slipped out before she could find the words. “I’m scared.”

“I’m… sorry, Raynie,” he said, hugging her close. “I wish…” He let the sentence hang, unfinished.

“Yeah,” she said. “Me too.”


End file.
